


Balance

by Oparu



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One quiet night on the Bus, when the team's out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suallenparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suallenparker/gifts).



> written for the darling suallenparker, who deserves all the niceness. *hugs*

She hasn't even made it to the sofa. May's lying on the floor, between the sofas, eyes closed. Her hands lie neatly folded on her stomach. He crouches down next to her and she smiles without opening her eyes. 

"It's finally quiet," he says.

She nods so slightly that he can barely see it. Fitz and Simmons have gone to a lab at the university nearby. Skye and Trip went out in search of karaoke and some kind of night club Skye's heard about. Fitz and Simmons will probably end up there eventually because Skye loves the nightlife in Seoul. It's been a crazy few days while they've overhauled the computer systems in the Bus. All of them have been working nonstop, trying to stay hidden, out of sight. It took several trades and a bunch of favours to find somewhere that could even replace the fibre optics quietly, for the money they have. Hill tries to help them whenever she can, but Stark's credit cards aren't accepted in the corners they're in. 

The Bus is finished. It'll carry them and keep them safe for months more. May's been running around with kids, keeping an eye on them while they trade and shop for what they need. Trip's trustworthy, and they're reasonably safe, but she needed to be with them. She's exhausted, more than just physically. He knows how hard it is for her to not have anywhere to retreat, no silence to take refuge in. 

He knows her well enough to sit next to her and enjoy the quiet with her instead of talking. It's been hard on all of them, trying to hold S.H.I.E.L.D. together with their bare hands. He has her at the centre of the maelstrom. When he doubts, she believes and it's enough to keep going. S.H.I.E.L.D. will be rebuilt on the bedrock of her beliefs, not his. He loves her for that, because his own falter. 

He crosses his legs and settles next to her. Her quiet is the best kind. There's a stillness in being with her that he doesn't find anywhere else. He doesn't need anything when he's with her. He doesn't have to do anything. It's calm, quiet, and no one needs anything from him, or her, not in this moment. He shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of her breathing. The Bus shuts out the sounds of the countryside. Everything's off except for a handful of lights and it's peaceful. May reaches for his wrist, stroking the skin just under his shirt sleeve. 

"Hi."

"Hi."

He opens his eyes and looks over; she smiles again and it reveals such beauty in her face. She toys with his wrist, slipping her fingers in between the fabric and his skin. 

"I'm sorry it's been so busy. I know I've asked a lot of you, especially with Skye-"

Her eyes open. "Skye is not more than I can handle."

"I know how you feel about supervising."

"She's different."

"You're different." 

She chuckles and her hand works its way up to his neck. "Not that different."

"It's the not old you I'm looking for," he reminds her. "You know that."

May looks away from him, sorrow darkening her eyes. "She's gone."

"I know." He turns into her hand and kisses it. "I only want you. Not the old you, just you, whoever you happen to be today." 

She strokes his chin. "I'm not sure who that is."

Leaning down, he kisses her forehead first, then her cheek. Her lips gleam dark red in the weak light and he should resist, because whenever he kisses her, he can't stop. It's that addicting. She wraps her leg around his and the moment he feels her touch, he knows she's not as tired as he thought. She flips him easily, shifting their weight so he lies on the floor beside her. He rolls, but she catches him, pinning him beneath her. 

"Yet you are," she finishes. 

"It's easier from the outside." 

She kisses him, starting with his top lip, then nibbling the lower. She tastes faintly of tea, and it's the familiarity of her lips against his and her tongue that takes his exhaustion away. Her fingers reach for his tie and they undo it together. Wrapping it around the back of her neck, he pulls her close. Melinda undoes the buttons of his shirt, working her way down his stomach. 

He stops her hands; she drags his hands across to her vest and the zipper in front. The metal teeth of the zipper slide open and he peels the leather from her undershirt. The tight fabric clings to her breasts and the muscles of her abdomen. Her hand runs through the hair of his chest, promising that he doesn't have to be alone. She drags up her undershirt, gifting him with the soft skin of her stomach. His hand runs across and rests on her hip. 

"You knew me when I didn't know myself," he reminds her. 

"I always know you," she murmurs in his ear. "You can trust that."

"I do." He strokes the curve of her hip, dipping his fingers beneath the waist of her trousers. "You know that?" 

"I know," she replies. "Why do you think I turned down going to the nightclub with Skye?"

Laughing, he tugs her shirt up off of her shoulders. She peels his off and straddles his legs. 

"I know how much you love the nightlife," he teases. Squaring his feet beneath him, he drags them both up, holding her in his arms. "I want this right, Melinda." 

"Nothing wrong with the floor," she says. Kissing his neck, she squirms them towards the wall and he kisses her there. It's a good distance to the bed compartments but his office is closer, and that's his, not the communal space. Carrying her in, he sets her down on his desk. He nuzzles her neck, kissing his way down until his mouth hovers just above her trousers. He opens them, sliding them down as she lifts her hips. He kisses her inner thigh, working down towards her knee. She moans, arching her back over his desk. He's going to think of that, of her hair hanging above the glass of his desk, of her hiss of pleasure, when he sits down to work again. 

"I want you," he begs, resting his hands on the thin black fabric of her panties. 

Her bare foot rests on his shoulder. She lifts her hips again, letting him guide the last bit of fabric free. 

"You always have me," she reminds him, tugging him close enough that she can kiss him. She removes her bra and tucks it into his desk drawer. 

Laughing again, he licks up her thigh. Her hips shift, tilting closer. He strokes her breast, distracting her before he finds finds her with his tongue. The soft sign of breath escaping her chest makes him weak in the knees. He takes his time, because for once, they have it. The kids won't be back until close to morning. Skye always finds something to distract them and Fitz and Simmons need a break. The last time they went out, the sun was up when Trip dragged them all home. They don't have to rush, or bite into the pillow so no one hears. He could make her scream, and no one would hear. 

He circles her clit with his tongue, then slips one of his fingers down. He teases first, exploring her before he slips it in. Curling his knuckle, he sucks at her clit, letting her push against his lips. Phil continues to suck on her clit, listening to her moan as the blood rushes in his ears. He wants her. His erection begs to be buried within her, to take the place of his hands, but he wants to feel this without being distracted. He wants to hear her, to watch her come undone. When her legs wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer, he knows she's close. When she tries to shove her hips up, lifting herself from the wood of his desk, he twists his fingers, letting them build up the friction inside of her. One of her hands digs into his hair, pulling him close. 

"Dammit, Phil," she gasps and the words barely register. She struggles for breath, and it's that loss of control that he finds so fascinating. She's the most powerful woman he knows and she's held herself together through fire and death, yet in his hands, she lets her control slip free. Her hips shake against his mouth and he gently pulls her deeper, alternating the pressure of his tongue and the skin of his lips. Her heels dig into his back and she tugs his head up. Melinda nearly falls off the desk and she kisses him so roughly that her teeth scrape his lips. She moans into his throat, shivering against him with his fingers still inside of her. When he pulls them free, she nuzzles his hand. 

"Did you get what you wanted?" she pants, leaning against him. 

"Yes," he answers. He kisses the sweat on her forehead. 

She chuckles and her breasts move against his bare chest. She's beautiful, always, but he has a weakness for this Melinda, the one only he sees.

"Oh? So you're finished then?" 

He kisses her chest and she playfully smacks him away. "What do you think?"

Her swift fingers remove his trousers and shorts before he even realises what she's doing. 

"Not quite finished," she teases, looking at his erection. "Maybe I can help with that." Slipping off the desk, she turns and presses his thighs against it. "How should I take you, do you think?" She licks along his length, then guides him up so his weight is held on the desk. She straddles him, her knees against the wood. Guiding him up, she welcomes him inside with a gasp. She must still be over-sensitive, because she shudders when he brushes her clit. 

"Wait," she sighs. Her dark eyes meet his, fulfilled, yet hungry. "I want to feel you first." She tilts her pelvis, letting him deeper. They rest there, connected like puzzle pieces who have found their place with each other. She tightens around him, beaming because she knows what she does to him. 

"I love you," he whispers, because it has to be said. 

She nods and rises, exposing his tender erection to the cold air before she buries it again in her heat. She rocks over him, exploring her chest with her hands. He holds her breasts, and her shoulders, pulling her close because she is his world. 

Lifting her, he watches her eyes as he thrusts into her. They darken and seem to swell, swallowing him whole. He goes willingly because he always will. A moment before he loses his breath, his control, and all of himself to her, she presses her lips against his ear. 

"You are my love."

This time they pant together as sparks dance before his eyes. 

He doesn't miss the condoms, though they were good for the mess, and again he's grateful that he chose the vasectomy. They can't have a child, they already have their legacy and their family. Worrying about anything else, seems a waste of time. She has him, and that is what matters. They clean up the mess and she wears his shirt on their way to bed. It hangs down to her mid-thigh and he loves seeing her legs as they creep to bed.

It'll be another day tomorrow, full of the endless fight to protect the world. 

She wraps around him, her chin on his shoulder. "Hi," she whispers.


End file.
